


Spearmint

by antiquitea



Series: Spearmint [1]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-24
Updated: 2009-08-24
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6523717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiquitea/pseuds/antiquitea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris hadn’t really been paying attention to what Karl was saying, because he was trying to find courage. He’d looked in his sock drawer as if it were located there, and then it dawned on him that he was wearing flip flops so he certainly didn’t need socks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spearmint

He tasted of spearmint gum. Chris hated spearmint.

Karl always chewed gum after they went out for sushi, and for that Chris was thankful. He could never quite wrap his mind around loving the sensation, the taste of sushi while eating it, but not entirely enjoying the taste of it on Karl’s tongue hours later. Chris had mentioned it only once, and since then Karl had religiously popped a piece of gum or a mint in his mouth the moment that they left the restaurant. Chris never had the heart to tell Karl that he hated the taste of spearmint gum more than he hated the aftertaste of the sushi.

He’d considered it, though.

* * *

Chris hadn’t noticed that he had accidently hit the caps lock key until about the time he had almost completed the email that he was typing. Letters that were supposed to be capitalized were in lowercase, and lowercase letters were all but screaming at him from the monitor. Chris sighed and furrowed his brow, fingers rapping absently at the keys with not enough force to register letters on the screen.

He deleted it all. It was a silly email anyway.

* * *

Hours later, as he walked to his car from Lamill, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Juggling the cup of coffee and his keys, he pulled his phone from the front pocket of his perhaps too-tight jeans and pressed the appropriate buttons to get the message to pop up on the screen.

_miss you. call later?_

Chris somehow managed to get his car door open and slid inside, putting his coffee cup in the holder next to his iPod. He read the message a couple of times over before he texted back.

_you bet._

* * *

“New Zealand sucks. You should come to LA.”

“Don’t be a child, Chris. Use your big words.”

“Fine. You being in New Zealand is unfavourable to the state of my sanity. You should come to LA where it’s significantly more awesome.”

“That’s better.”

* * *

It had seemed like forever since they had last seen each other, and even longer since Chris had known the pleasure of Karl being inside him. Although both events had last occurred at the same time, so why one felt further away than the other, Chris wasn’t sure. He wasn’t about to call it into question, though. Not with his cheek pressed flush against the pillow, knuckles dangerously white from grabbing, gripping, _oh my god_ tearing at his bed sheets. Tightly shut eyes flew open, and he gasped like he had needed air from having his head underwater for far too long.

He whined. Chris couldn’t recall an instance where had actually _fucking whined_ before.

“ _Karl_.”

* * *

“I can’t stay,” Karl whispered.

Chris always hated the morning after with Karl. It was never light and fluffy like he had always secretly wanted it to be. He would never openly admit that. With anyone else, he would all but push them out of his bed, question why they were still there, and begin searching his room for their clothes. But with Karl, he always found himself instinctively clutching at whatever part of his body was closest, and willing him to stay.

Shifting from his back and onto his side, Chris faced Karl and attempted to read his expression. His brow was always furrowed, so for whatever reason, it never meant anything to Chris, it was simply quintessential Karl. Chris blinked and licked at his dry, chapped lips. Karl seemed to watch his tongue with a great deal of interest, and it caused Chris to feel warmth spreading across his cheeks. He searched his mind for what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to simply say, “I know,” as he always did whenever Karl said that he couldn’t stay, or some variation of it.

 _You big, stupid man. I want you to stay. Can’t you tell that for whatever reason, whatever stupid reason, I’m kind of head over heels in love with you? No, scratch that. I_ am _in love with you. You’re too far away. All of the time. I can’t even really remember the date the last time we were together. Wait, that’s a lie. It was June 28. Anyway. You should stay. You need to stay. I’m going crazy without you here. God damn it, Karl. Stay. For just a little while longer? What’s so important in New Zealand anyway? Wait. Don’t answer that. I can’t leave LA. I guess ... you can’t leave New Zealand either. Fuck. This sucks._

It sounded better in his head.

“I know,” Chris muttered as Karl reached out to trail his fingers across the plane of his chest.

* * *

“What about September?”

Karl huffed. “Can’t.”

“October?”

“Hmm. Probably not.”

“November?”

“I don’t think -”

“December? What about December? What goes on in December?”

Karl blinked. “Christmas, idiot.”

“Oh. Right.”

The two sat in Chris’ living room, somehow the epitome of a couple on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Karl sat at one end of the couch, book in hand, although Chris could tell that he wasn’t really reading it. Chris sat at the other end, feet on Karl’s lap, pretending to read the New York Times but really attempting to figure out when the next time they could see each other would be.

“I could always come to New Zealand,” he ventured.

Karl made a sound that Chris couldn’t place. It sounded like a grumble. After looking at Karl’s face - yup, definitely a grumble. “You and I both know that you can’t. You’re too busy.”

Chris frowned. “No more busy than you.”

“C’mon, kid. You’re the hottest ticket in Hollywood right now. Your multiple paparazzi friends aren’t going to let you out of their sight. And in the event that you came to New Zealand, you would be followed. We would be followed. And I know you don’t want that, because I sure as hell don’t,” Karl said, setting his book down on the coffee table in front of him.

Chris hated when Karl called him _kid_. “How is that different from you being here? We go out in public, are followed by the paparazzi.”

Karl chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, but it’s LA. Celebrities belong here. It doesn’t seem as weird, as off, as you coming to New Zealand to see me.”

Frowning, Chris picked at the edges of his newspaper until it began to tear. “I’m not busy in November. I could come and see you.”

“Not a good idea.”

Chris dropped the matter for a couple of moments, and let the awkward silence hang between them. He read the same sentence in his paper over and over again, before frustratedly dropping it to his lap. “So I’m not going to see you until next year?”

Karl had gone back to reading his book, and didn’t even look over at Chris, simply arched an eyebrow. “That’s probably the most likely scenario.”

Chris didn’t care for that scenario at all.

* * *

“Stay,” Chris rasped, his hands fisting in Karl’s t-shirt.

Karl had stood at the bottom of the stairs in Chris’ house, suitcase by his feet, and yelled up to Chris that his flight was leaving in a couple of hours. Something about it being an international flight, so they needed to be at the airport earlier. Chris hadn’t really been paying attention to what Karl was saying, because he was trying to find courage. He’d looked in his sock drawer as if it were located there, and then it dawned on him that he was wearing flip flops so he certainly didn’t need socks.

Chris had come down the stairs, wearing what appeared to be a permanent frown, twirling his car keys in his hand. As always when actually leaving, Karl appeared somewhat saddened by the prospect of it. It was the only time in his stays with Chris that the younger man was actually able to tell the other kind of gave a damn. Karl gave Chris that same sad smile that he always did, and instead of offering one back as he always did, Chris instead shoved Karl against the wall and captured his lips sloppily between his own.

Groaning, hands flying to Chris’ shoulders, Karl drew him closer for a moment, then pushed him away. Chris kept his hand securely gripped within Karl’s shirt, breath heaving out of him as he fought to catch it.

“Damn it, Chris. I can’t.”

“Just another -”

“ _I can’t._ “

Chris frowned, releasing his hold on Karl’s shirt and backing away a step. Karl smoothed his hands over the front of his wrinkled t-shirt and grumbled. Sighing, Chris picked up Karl’s suitcase and moved toward the door. He expected the footsteps behind him, but didn’t expect the hand on his wrist. He turned around and looked at a rather apologetic looking Karl.

Karl was very rarely sorry for anything.

“Chris.”

“Yeah.”

Karl reached for the suitcase and took it from Chris’ hand, and set it down on the floor. He placed his hands on Chris’ hips and drew him closer. Chris tried not to look mad, because he kind of was. Placing a rather unexpected soft and ridiculously endearing kiss on Chris’ forehead, Karl then took a deep breath.

“You know how I feel.”

“I do.”

“I don’t like leaving either. But if I gave in to every single one of your demands, pleas that I stay or come over here, would you still feel that way?”

Chris scoffed. “Of course.”

“Really? Think about it. More than half of our time together is spent apart.”

“Don’t start on that absence makes the heart grow fonder shit,” Chris groaned, rolling his eyes a little.

“Hey,” Karl began, squeezing Chris’ hips. “It’s true, okay? I don’t like leaving any more than you do. But what happens here, and what happens out there - it’s two different things. Two different lives. For the both of us.”

“What you’re saying is ... this never was meant to be something permanent,” Chris said, chewing slightly on his bottom lip.

“Something like that,” Karl said after a moment’s hesitation. “It can be. Just not out there. Don’t you think I want to scream from rooftops how I feel?”

“That’s a touch dramatic,” Chris said with a slight smile. “I’d settle for you just telling me instead of alluding to it.”

“Saying it makes it real,” Karl said, eyes downcast. “Really real.”

Chris tilted his head slightly. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Karl replied quickly, shaking his head slightly. “And everything. Chris, we both know that what we want - what we truly want - isn’t feasible. It can never happen. Not to the full extent that we want it to.”

Sighing, Chris reached down and pulled Karl’s hands from his hips. “I know. I knew that getting into this. It was what I wanted.”

“Is it what you still want?” Karl asked.

“Yeah.”

Karl smiled fondly and placed his hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Better?”

“A little,” Chris replied. “It sucks when you leave.” He sighed, looking to the ceiling in attempt to avoid Karl’s eyes. “I kind of love you, you big dumb, idiot.”

Karl threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, I know.”

“But I hate your fucking spearmint gum. It’s gross.”

Karl chuckled and reached up, cupping Chris’ face in his hands. He took a moment to drink him all in, all blue eyes, pouty lips, and hair desperately in need of a cut. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to those full lips, and Chris pressed into it with what he could afford. He wasn’t about to put too much into it, he didn’t want to seem as desperate as he felt. “Yeah, I know.”

* * *

The months came and went. Chris didn’t have control over the speed in which they passed. Some flew by with barely enough time to register, others dragged on to the point where it drove him to madness.

In the days before Christmas, Chris received a letter from Karl. It made him laugh. Who sent letters anymore?

_Merry Christmas. I’ll see you soon._

_Karl_

He’d enclosed a pack of spearmint gum.

Chris hated spearmint.


End file.
